


Weariness, Wards, and Washing

by Kalira



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Sterek, Bathing/Washing, Exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mud, Post-Monster of the Week, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Worn thin at the end of weeks of wrestling with both high fae and low, Stiles and Derek settle into their own home again with exhausted relief, each trying to care for the other over themselves.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92
Collections: 12 Days of Sterek





	Weariness, Wards, and Washing

Stiles was not too proud to admit that he wanted to cry when they crossed the boundary onto their property and their house came into view. Just a little.

Derek leaned up against his legs, head tilting against his chest, and Stiles did his best not to collapse on his lover. Derek could take it, but it wouldn’t get them any closer to being inside. And warm. And clean. It had been a _very_ long week, most of it spent in the woods, and the _snow_ for fuck’s sake, and Stiles was so very done with everything.

“Bathtubs,” Stiles said as they slogged through the gate and across the back garden - he spared a grateful thought for Derek putting in that gate at the back for the poor human who couldn’t just jump the fence - towards the back deck, “are amazing. I cannot wait to get you in one.”

Derek _boofed_ at him, and Stiles frowned, rubbing his forearm against his ribs where there was half-frozen mud on his coat. Most of it was transferred from Derek’s fur, rather than acquired on his own.

“Yes, you.” Stiles countered, shaking his head. Derek’s paws were solid _brown_ , so badly caked in mud that it showed clearly despite the darkness of his - sodden - coat. He was a _mess_. He laid back his ears, then twitched, shaking his head - Stiles was pretty sure there was mud down deep inside one the left one, after that tumbling slide down the rockfall - before he glared at Stiles and barked, shoving at him.

“Shut up, you need a bath more than me!” Stiles argued, gesturing broadly at Derek and then opening the back door. The mud had splashed and soaked so far up his legs it was crusting in the fur of his belly and chest as well.

Derek, Stiles thought with a huff, should _not_ be able to look so _dubious_ when he didn’t have a human face to look it with.

He shook himself and paced closer to Stiles, all but winding bodily around him and pushing him up further into the house, out of the mudroom. Because Stiles was _brilliant_ , this part of the house didn’t have the same hardwood as most of it - Derek’s love of rich, soft tones showed clearly in the warmly polished wood, which radiated _home_ and _cosy_ to Stiles - but plain tile. Though it was something a little more attractive than the plain, dull blue in the mudroom.

Derek’s hands were suddenly on his hips, nudging from behind, and Stiles jumped, then shuddered a little, faltering.

“You stopped shivering an hour ago.” Derek said, pushing Stiles on towards the huge bathroom around the corner. “You need it more than me in so many more ways, but-”

Stiles began to protest and Derek squashed him companionably, one arm wrapping around his waist. “ _But_ , the bath is big enough for us both anyway, just stop arguing and we’ll share.” he said with a low growl.

Stiles sighed, distracted by the rumbling against his back and in his ear, letting his lover direct him. That was a good point, anyway. As Derek set to stripping his damp, muddy clothes off, the bath already running noisily beside them, Stiles wondered if Derek had finally figured out he could still make Stiles’ brain short-circuit when he did that just right and started using it against him.

He hoped not, but given he was more than willing to use the play of his fingers over pens or his own arms or neck, or long arches of his neck, to distract Derek at times. . .

Well, it would only be fair, he supposed. Stiles made a face at the mud splashed over Derek’s chest and arms, reaching out to start rubbing it away, and Derek sighed, but came closer and let Stiles fuss over him.

Stiles was quite proud of that, really. It had been an achievement that took _years_ of work, coaxing Derek to allow himself to be fussed over, even only in private and only, really, by Stiles. To convince him both that he deserved it and that Stiles _meant_ it honestly, wanted to do it.

Stiles didn’t quite realise he was half-whining until Derek crooned soothingly, wrapping a - very muddy and still damp - arm around his shoulders.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m fine.” he said, leaning his chin on Derek’s shoulder.

“You’re frozen.” Derek said dryly. “But you’re in one piece at least. And not _blue_.”

“I don’t think they would-”

“Like _frostbite_.” Derek said with studied patience. “Come on, into the bath.” he continued before Stiles could protest further, nudging him over and steadying him as he stepped into the water only to jerk, shuddering hard, under the sensation of a thousand tiny needles assaulting him everywhere the water reached.

Derek might . . . possibly have been right about the cold, Stiles thought, grimacing.

“Possibly.” Derek said, shaking his head, and kissed Stiles’ shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, easing his grip slowly.

Stiles sighed. “I won’t fall.” he promised, and Derek made a low sound in his throat that wasn’t quite a hum and wasn’t quite a groan, but was a little like both. Then he released Stiles and stepped back, wetting a towel at the sink and-

Ah. He was getting off the worst off the mud. Stiles looked down at the water around his legs. That was nice. Sitting in murky water was not the _most_ relaxing.

Stiles carefully eased himself down in the water, pretty sure that Derek was watching him closely, ready to lunge for him if he _did_ start to fall. Stiles appreciated it - he wasn’t _going_ to, but his legs were a little numb and achy at once, and he’d rather not bust his head open in his own bathroom. At all, preferably, but after spending almost a week tracking down and negotiating with the Unseelie Court and even longer hunting down their lost pets in the snowy woods - ‘freak cold front’ indeed - and coming out of it with only a few scrapes and bruises to show along with a sore throat from so much singing and speaking, it would be embarrassing to crack his skull in his own bathroom.

Stiles settled into the curved side of the bath and closed his eyes, groaning. He wasn’t sure how long it was before Derek joined him, couldn’t have sworn he hadn’t fallen into something of a doze there in the bath, but he slowly sat up and moved a little out of the way, smiling, as his lover slid in beside him.

Derek smiled back, a little tight, and smoothed a hand over Stiles’ shoulder and down his side. He was shivering again _now_ , hard enough it hurt a little. And cold all through, he could feel it.

“You need a fur coat of your own if you’re going to be tromping through the snow like that.” Derek said, chafing Stiles’ arms and shoulders gently.

Stiles shuddered and told his body the water was _warm_ , whatever it felt like. “That’s what I have you for, babe.” he said, a little unsteadily.

Derek scoffed, then leaned up and kissed his brow. “I am not very practical when we’re out hunting things.” he said dryly, and Stiles laughed, leaning into him. “Happy as I am to warm you up.”

“Yeah that’s fair.” Stiles said with a huff. “I vote no more Unseelie monsters in general.”

Experience of the last few weeks meant Stiles immediately made a warding gesture, despite having sent off the last of the monsters with its grateful mistress hours ago, _and_ being safely inside his own house, deep inside the wards he had laid into the very bones of the house, because Stiles was not an idiot.

And because Stiles was not an idiot and he knew his lover very well, the wards included tangible guards against fire, and the boundary line for unfriendly incursions was doubled with another set of wards at the edge of the property. Stiles thought it was funny seeing some of their neighbours mysteriously fail to cross onto their property.

He thought once he had recovered from these past few weeks he had a few ideas of new things to weave into those outer wards, too. They’d come out of their dealings with the Unseelie Court well - though Stiles was _not_ foolish enough to say _that_ out loud - due to Stiles’ quick tongue and Derek’s fierce determination and the trust between their pack.

They might survive by luck all too often, but Stiles was never comfortable _relying_ on it.

His dealings with the Unseelie had left him with some ideas of better ways to protect their home - from the fae and in general. He swept his fingers through the water, grimacing at how slow and stiff they were.

“I know it’s difficult for you,” Derek said, nuzzling his shoulder and sliding both hands around his waist, “but Stiles?”

Stiles blinked. “Mphrgle?” He paused, clearing his throat, but Derek kissed his cheek softly before he could put together something more sensible.

“Stop thinking for a little while, love.” Derek said softly, drawing Stiles closer, up in the water and into his lap.

Stiles sighed. “Yeah probably.” He huffed sulkily, shifting a little and tucking his head down on Derek’s shoulder, which was warm and shockingly comfortable for hiding in, as Stiles had confirmed many times over the years.

A corner of his brain kept ticking away at those plans, but Stiles left them there to be turned over in more detail when he had rested and had more time. And his equipment, his notes, maybe walking the ward line to see how new layers would weave in. . .

Stiles smiled as Derek smoothed a hand over his stomach and chest, pouring water over his skin. “I hope,” he said, shifting a little and trailing his hands over Derek’s wrists and up his forearms, “you plan to take tomorrow off still, at least.”

“I should-”

Stiles shifted, tipping his head and catching Derek’s eye. Derek made a grouchy noise low in his throat and Stiles knew he wasn’t hiding his amusement well, but couldn’t quite smooth out his expression.

“Fine.” Derek said with a huff. “If you’ll actually take the time to recover and stay in bed or in the chair by the fire.”

“If you stay with me.” Stiles bargained, sliding his fingers between Derek’s own. “You _did_ say you’re happy to warm me up. . .”

Derek gave a considering sort of rumble, nosing his ear, and Stiles shivered, shifting a little against him. Derek’s arm around his waist tightened and Stiles went still again; he hadn’t really been trying to pull away, but he was happy enough to be held, relaxing here with his lover.

“Deal.” Derek said, propping his chin on Stiles’ shoulder, making him shiver at the prickly feeling. “Dinner tonight?”

“I vote we call in.” Stiles said after barely a breath. Derek laughed. “I don’t even remember what was in the fridge before we left. I think that can be an adventure for tomorrow us.”

Derek groaned. “I think we had . . . that lemon-glazed fish.”

Stiles grimaced. “Fuck, we did.” It had been a not-too-bad experiment, but that had been . . . before they spent days in the woods.

“That can _definitely_ be a problem for later.” Derek agreed, sighing. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Something that requires no utensils.” Stiles said, holding up his hands with a wince. “I’m tired and stiff.”

“Are your fingers numb?” Derek asked, tensing, concern thick in his voice as he clasped Stiles’ hands, gently stroking his fingers.

“No damage.” Stiles said with a sigh. “Just. . . Let me be lazy.”

“I don’t think you qualify for lazy after the past few weeks.” Derek said, and kissed his cheek. “Let’s finish washing up and we’ll order pizza.”

“Awesome.” Stiles closed his eyes and let his head sink back on Derek’s shoulder again. “Wake me when that’s happening, right?”

Derek laughed, hugging him a little tighter around the waist. “Right. That’s entirely reasonable.” he said dryly, and Stiles hummed, amused. Derek didn’t make him sit up, though, only shifted a little lower in the seat against the edge of the bath and held him close as he sagged.

Eventually, even with the magic charmed into the bath, the water lost its warmth, and they climbed out, both a little wobbly. There were spare clothes stored in the bathroom cupboard for days just like this, and Stiles pulled on soft pyjamas and let Derek wrestle him into a thick sweater that was definitely not his own before they headed into the house proper.

It was a bit chilly, and Stiles padded to the broad fireplace while Derek went to call for dinner, probably prowling the house reflexively as well. Stiles didn’t mind and he wasn’t entirely sure whether Derek realised the habit himself or not - Derek trusted their locks, and more he trusted Stiles’ wards, but he never quite settled until he had walked the perimeter of the house himself.

A wolf marking out the safe boundaries of his den, Stiles thought idly as he called sparks to his hands and poured them into the grate. It took a bit of energy, but Stiles wasn’t that drained, only exhausted, and he had it to spare; five minutes later the fire was burning comfortably, settling into a steady glow with barely a flicker, and Stiles curled up in the huge chair nearest it, wrapping a big blanket around himself.

He shifted over to make room when Derek finished his circuit, and Derek grinned, phone abandoned on the couch, and settled in against him. “Pizza will be here in twenty.” he provided, nuzzling Stiles’ neck, and he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’ll wake you when it gets here.” Derek added more softly.

“I may not wake up to eat.” Stiles said, moving to wrap the blanket over both of them instead, though he was fairly sure he’d remember to be hungry when there was food in front of him.

“Just rest.” Derek said, and yawned in his ear. Stiles laughed and caught his hand, fingers pushing between Derek’s, just a little clumsily. Derek squeezed gently, hooking one leg beneath Stiles’ as he twined their fingers carefully.

And if they both startled awake badly when the pizza arrived, tumbling out of the chair with magic sparking to Stiles’ fingertips and claws suddenly tipping Derek’s, well, Stiles was no idiot, and he’d built their home’s wards to accommodate - and contain - those things as well.


End file.
